Prairie Poetry   
  Just An Acre

They say that our lands’ not worth farming anymore
They say that developers will pay us more
Hundred grand an acre, is what I’m told
They’ll ‘doze it, build houses, strip malls and other fancy stores
To keep up ‘with market demand’ is what it’s all for

I’m not so sure I agree with that,
I don’t understand anything but farming the land
In five generations, we’ve always pulled through
Droughts, ‘hoppers and twisters too
Now that’s all changin’, as the cities have grown
And slowly urban sprawl makes her move for my home

My family and I, we vow to fight
But a Hundred Grand an acre
Sure makes it hard to sleep at night

I twist and I turn and I stare at the wall
Why isn’t farming viable anymore?

Roosters are crowin’ and it’s time to get up
Dawn is crackin’ and coffee’s done
I climb up the ladder and take a quick look
My acres of land, my labor of love
My heart says stay, but my bones demand
That I keep in mind, that Hundred Grand

And so, the decision I must make
Is do I sell or do I stay?
That Hundred Grand is sure a nice number
More than I’d see in a lifetime of farming
Even if I sold…..just an acre.

  Bridgette M. Crosby
  Copyright © 2005 Bridgette M. Crosby
  Author Index | Biographies | Support Prairie Poetry | Month Index | Year Index | Guestbook | Home